A Woman Speaks: Finding Your Way Out of the Mess
Posted on November 9, 2014
I’ve been blogging on and off for over two years and yet I find myself continually going back to the beginning wanting to share how it is I ended up here. Reflecting back to move forward. Courage, as it was originally defined, is to share one’s story with all of one’s heart. I cannot continue without sharing the mess I had to become before I could find my way out. I say a woman speaks, because I believe there are rights of passage in life. I feel I’ve earned the title woman. Yes, age and gender may lend me the title quite simply, but to connect to the feminine force – which is just as much a part of the universe as the atom- is to tap into a sacred bond and enter the tribe. A tribe rich with the history of all the feminine spirit of our past and the promise of the alchemical feminine of tomorrow. We are living in a new era, we don’t have the same choices as our mothers, grandmothers, or anyone who lived before us. We have more.
Whenever you are, wherever you are, whatever you are
I feel you stirring deep in me
To finally quench this longing
Of this woman I am to be
For whenever you are, wherever you are, whatever you are
You’ve helped me see
That it’s beautiful to bloom and open
Revealing the lotus inside of me
About four years ago I was lost in my head, in my heart and truly unsure of which direction to go in life. The idea of divorce, the newly sprouted dreams of writing, the call to finally delve deep ached so painfully. I tried to ignore the nudge, but I couldn’t keep pushing things far below the surface. I couldn’t polish it up and pretend anymore.
The void, as I’ll call it, was eating me alive. You know… that deep knowing that this isn’t it. This isn’t life, this is going through the motions of the thing called life. My pulse was non-existent. My passion barely a glowing ember. I couldn’t sleep, I had no problem eating, but it was without nourishment or satiety, I was a shopaholic with a closet full of bags with tags as I stumbled into dangerous liaisons. I was looking for anything to fill that void so I wouldn’t hurt, so the grief wouldn’t consume me.
All I knew was that simply surviving wasn’t going to cut it anymore. I wasn’t just looking out for myself. I had a beautiful little baby girl and how in the hell do you raise a little girl to womanhood when somehow you’ve circumvented that inevitability your whole life?
The definition of woman is a human adult female. Most assuredly at age 31, I would be defined a woman, but on accounts of how I use the term, only more recently do I feel I’ve embraced womanhood, and in doing so, embraced being me.
I had one of those
breakdowns spiritual awakenings Brené Brown, speaks of. I had to start over, to realign myself finding a new center, a path with heart for I had lived the path of intellect for so long. I hide behind my intellect quite often as to be creative is to be vulnerable. I don’t do vulnerable, I stare it down daring it to just try and surface. The problem being vulnerability is necessary for relationships, for connection and we’re biologically wired from birth for connection; we’re born for love.
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” ~ Brené Brown,
I had to fall apart, and then find myself again and again and again while sifting through the wreckage piece by piece. I’m using the same vulnerability to share my story, because I believe stories are data with soul, as so aptly coined by Brené Brown. I think we’re all here to see each other through, not see through each other like transparent films flapping in the wind. Life is a beautiful mess, here’s to finding one’s way out. A clue…it starts within.